


Winning The War

by neptunedemon



Series: Yuuri Week 2019 [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Day 1, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Smitten Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neptunedemon/pseuds/neptunedemon
Summary: In which Viktor dives headfirst into a battle he always loses, but still comes out the winner.





	Winning The War

**Author's Note:**

> [Day 1: Competitive](https://yuuriweek2019.tumblr.com/)

The thing about fucking Yuuri Katsuki is that it's not what Viktor expects.

It's better. A thousand times better, like holy-freaking-wow is it better. And he hadn’t even expected anything but the best.

But where he'd imagined blushes and batting eyes, something else swims under the impressions of Yuuri's skin. Then it’s like the tide drops out. Yuuri smirks, just the quirk of lips, and Viktor’s heart is something flapping in the wind against his ribs. 

Yuuri's hair splays around his head. It'd gotten longer since they met, hadn't it? Of course it had. Viktor only notices now and it punches him in the gut, mixing with the heat and want he feels. Love, too.

He undoubtedly loves Yuuri, but he'd fallen for him within an hour of knowing him.

He's been growing around Yuuri, who’s been growing around him -- amd suddenly it's like Viktor realizes that they're both here and he's got Yuuri pinned to the bed like he knows even a sliver of what the hell to do with such a beautiful man underneath him.

Lucky for him, Yuuri seems to come to similar realizations, but without the loss of control. The simmer of his smirk and heated gaze boils over, and Yuuri must be the kind of person to just let himself flood into the burner and sizzle into the air, all so much at once. It works to undo Viktor.

He flips their positions. Viktor is too dumb to even know it's happened until his back hits the bed.

"Yuuri," he manages, and Yuuri's eyes go a little wide. He doesn't know why until the sound echoes in his ear and he realizes it rolled out of him as a plea.

It IS a plea.

Yuuri's white shirt is unbuttoned and hanging open in crisp, wrinkled folds. Their stomachs touch with the lightest tickle as he bends down to kiss along Viktor's neck, and Viktor presses up greedily to feel warm skin. His nipples graze against the cloth of Yuuri's shirt, and it both shivers his body and steels him for more.

"Yuuri," he mutters again, and Yuuiri reaches down to grab the line of Viktor's hard cock through his pants and palms him to the rhythm of kisses down his chest. "Ah -"

His mind scrambles.

He'd done it, unlocked the Yuuri of that One Night, loosened Eros Yuuri from the rink into the bedroom, and he wasn't sure how, but he'd done it.

Part of him wants to challenge him. Try to reclaim this night, flip Yuuri again and show him what he'd planned for him.

Yuuri pulls back and there's no mercy in his eyes. "Be good for me," he says and moves farther from Viktor's sight.

There's no hope.

Yuuri mouths his clothed cock, wet and sucking, letting warmth saturate Viktor's pants, and holy freaking damn, a heat shoots up his spine like a blade. "Yuuri!" How many times was he just going to say his name tonight?

Yuuri glances up at him through dark lashes and cocks a brow. Then licks his lips. "Yeah?"

Many times, apparently.

 _"Yuuri,_ love, don't torture me."

Yuuri stares at him without any words. This lasts two seconds, but two seconds in which Viktor feels the intensity of an ocean's depth fill the room.

Yuuri starts to unzip his pants. Wait, oh god. "Okay." The word is resigned, all emotive nuance held back, and Viktor’s powerless. The competition has died out of him. Yuuri wins, has won, and Viktor lets himself be the glorious podium on which he rises over.

The folds of Yuuri's shirt carry him like a cloud over Viktor. Pink nipples appear and disappear as he shifts, and the balance of curves and muscles of his torso taunt him. Viktor craves reaching out, to thumb those nipples and press seering desire into his skin.

The sight of his cock punches Viktor somewhere deep -- he'd almost forgotten they'd progressed quickly into their night before this turn of events. That earlier, he'd kissed across Yuuri's body, thrown his pants across the room, and worked him open. Mouth open on his, making note of every little taste of Yuuri, he'd pushed fingers inside of him, feeling him apart. Yuuri shuddered, body a beautiful stitching of angles and grace, coming together to tremble around him.

When Yuuri looks down at him now, it’s almost with an ounce of pity, like he _knew_ this would happen. That some part of his make-up, something Viktor had yet to truly understand, would unfurl itself tonight. 

Viktor could get caught in these sails. He was willing to go wherever they’d take him. Especially if it means he gets a beautiful man to crash against.

"Viktor," Yuuri purrs. "I love you."

Viktor's heart throws itself violently against his chest.

Yuuir’s hand traces a line down his torso, from heart down to dick, where Viktor feels a need that thwarts his entire body with heat and want. Yuuri lifts himself, takes a hold of Viktor, and the liminal moments between this and the thing he really wants form a heavy anticipation in his stomach.

When Yuuri slides down, that niggling anticipation yanks out of him in a choking yell. And Yuuri, merciless, sinks onto him so wholly and completely that Viktor can barely catch his breath. He does this, always, managing to sit on Viktor like he's a throne built for him, sinking his hips down in a rolling motion that makes the heat drag rough and good.

Yuuri doesn't break his gaze with Viktor's face, and now he grins with teeth, hiding his own undoing with ease. "Good?"

He's evil, positively evil.

"Please," Viktor gasps, shameless and begging, and grabs his hips with bruising fingers when Yuuri immediately complies.

Yuuri rides him with the motions of an artist, body taut and in-control, fucking the thoughts out of Viktor's mind with his ass and the way he clenches his teeth and growls out his name.

Damn, it's agonizingly good, and it isn't long until Viktor is teetering on an edge of blistering heat and pleasure. He starts stroking Yuuri's cock in one of his hands, the other still in a vice at his hips, catching Yuuri up. Precome drips down his cock; Viktor regrets not lavishing it more earlier, but there's always tomorrow. Or later. Later sounds so plausible while still fucking because when they are, when he's on this insane high right before Yuuri tumbles them both back to Earth, it's hard to imagine they would do anything other than this.

Yuuri makes a sound and they're both so, so close, sweat sticking and the heat swimming around them in dizzying little swirls, and then Viktor feels his pleasure condense into a loosely held ball; then it unfurls like a bomb, and he comes.

He usually comes first, because Yuuri is wildly good at this and though never admitting it, Viktor suspects he holds on almost every time just for the satisfaction of drilling Viktor into the those shivery aftershocks, that he must get off on the way he clutches at him even tighter and clamps down when Yuuri tightens around his tired dick.

One day he'll show him, he thinks as his ankles dig into the bed, thighs straining, and breathlessly carries Yuuri to his own orgasm. It MUST be on purpose, he thinks dazedly as he strokes Yuuri with a determined arm, and Yuuri hisses a curse and lands down on Viktor one more time. That's all it takes, and Viktor's breath rushes out in pale relief and bliss and he watches Yuuri crumble with his orgasm, ribbons shooting over their stomachs and down Viktor's hand.

"Are you proud of yourself?" Viktor mumbles into the shell of his ear after they've cleaned up, and after Yuuri has shimmied himself into nestled ball in Viktor's arms, reasserting himself as the little spoon, the needy fragile one.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yuuri supplies with way too much chirp. But he turns his head to the side just enough that Viktor can see his smirk.

He searches for a witty remark, or maybe he could just flip him and kiss him, but words tangle in his chest and action drains from his muscles, and he's just weak and in love with Yuuri's many facets. So he buries his face in his neck, ignoring the way Yuuri gently shakes with withheld laughter, and he pulls him tighter to him. Maybe he can't win all these little moments, and perhaps Yuuri will always be the one knocking the wind out of him, but having him here at all, with the promise of forever in his arms locked around him, is the greatest win of all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/neptunedemon/) and [Tumblr](http://skateonme.tumblr.com/)! ^^


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